Summary: What do you have to live for when part of you is dead? How can you go on when your world's been shattered? George Weasley will have to find a way….GW/AJ, post-DH, rated T.

A/N: So, just to preface this story with a disclaimer, I'm not planning on it being very long, maybe five or six chapters. Just a short little idea about how George and Angie got together—enjoy!


"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. . . . One hour."

Though the words should perhaps have frightened me, I felt nothing but relief that I'd have an hour-long break before I'd have to fight again. The castle rapidly emptied of Death Eaters, and those on our side began the painstaking process of lifting the dead and injured into the Great Hall.

I barely glanced at the dead bodies passing under my gaze as I searched the Hall for my family. I hadn't seen any of them for at least an hour, and was anxious for confirmation that they were all right.

"George!" my sister Ginny's voice called from a point in the middle of the Great Hall. I hurried over to her and grabbed her up in a tight hug.

"Hey, sis," I said, grinning at her. "Good to see you're still in one piece."

"You too," she replied, returning my smile. "Have you seen Fred or anyone yet?"

"No," I replied, hardly noticing that my twin was the only one she'd actually named. It wasn't strange for her to assume that he was the one I'd be most likely to have seen, as we were together so often. In fact, this was probably the longest we'd been apart for nearly our whole lives. I smiled a little, wondering if that was pathetic.

Ginny's anguished cry broke into my thoughts. She was looking over my shoulder, horror-struck. "What?" I asked quickly.

"No," she whispered, sagging against me.

The raw pain in her voice scared me more than anything had so far that night as I turned in the direction of her gaze.

My father and Percy were supporting Fred's limp body into the Great Hall. They laid him gently on the floor a few feet from us, and my father turned immediately to put his arms around my sobbing mother.

Ginny and I moved towards our broken family. My feet felt as though they'd been filled with lead, and all I could think was that this couldn't be happening. As I reached Fred's body, my legs suddenly gave out and I fell to my knees by his head. I stared down at his face, where the hint of a smile was etched. If I could pick anyone to die with a smile on his face, it would be Fred, I thought absently. But my mind latched onto only one word—die—and pain such as I'd never known ripped through me. I could hardly breathe, it was so strong. I gripped handfuls of the fabric of my jeans so hard that my knuckles turned white. After a few seconds, it passed, and I was left with one heart-wrenching thought: I will never see my twin alive again.